In Winter's Winds
by ALiteraryLife
Summary: Picks up in 7x07 and will deviate very quickly. Jon & Daenerys fly to Winterfell to join the Northern Houses in the Great War. Jon's patronage is still unknown to him, but will be revealed causing him to war with himself and his growing desire and love for Daenerys. Told from multiple POVs with other characters guest starring. M for future chapters. I own nothing, Jon Snow.
1. Chapter 1 - In Their Eyes

In Their Eyes

DAENERYS

Few things in Daenerys's life had been as difficult as she found this moment to be. Appearing calm, serene even, so near to the woman who sat on the Iron Throne… The woman who plotted against her tested Daenerys in every way possible. Though she sat straight as an arrow with her hands clasped delicately together in her lap, her blood raced. It pounded in her ears, a mockery unbeknownst to those around her.

"Your capital will be safe," Daenerys stated simply, "until the Northern threat is dealt with. You have my word."

"The word of a would-be usurper," Cersei hissed.

Daenerys felt her adrenaline surge; blood pumped wildly in her chest, a deep heat threatening to unleash the temper she always felt boiling just beneath the surface. Only Tyrion's well-timed interruption kept it from boiling over. Her eyes met Ser Jorah's and while everyone else listened to Tyrion and focused their attention on the Hound's climb from the depths of the Pit, Daenerys felt Jorah's silent pleas. It served as a reminder that even those nearest her feared the dragon within. She gave a brisk nod and Jorah refocused his attention on the Hound.

An uneasy stir moved through those in attendance as the Hound opened the wood crate and stepped back. Daenerys cast a quick glance at Jon, whose hand rested on the pommel of his sword. _Always at the ready_ , she thought to herself. His intensity gave her chills and she fought to control the fire in the pit of her stomach. It was always there now; low embers only slightly aflame when not in his presence. His nearness fanned them to life without fail, sometimes threatening to engulf her fully.

The Hound kicked the crate forward and the second worst sound Daenerys had ever heard filled the air. The Wight flung itself forward, scrambling frantically as it reached for the first thing it saw: Cersei. Jerked back at the last possible second by the Hound, it fell and began its efforts anew. The only sound that had ever given her more fear than Wight screams was the shrieks of her dragon as it was struck with a mortal blow; a sound that haunted her dreams and threatened her undoing daily.

"We can destroy them by burning them," Jon said, his voice loud and confident. "And we can destroy them with dragonglass. If we don't win this fight, then this is the fate of every person in the world."

Jon struck the Wight with the killing blow, the dragonglass blade entering it easily. A final shriek filled the air and Daenerys let out the breath she'd been holding.

"There's only one war that matters now – The Great War. And it is here."

"I didn't believe it until I saw them. I saw them all," Daenerys said, slightly annoyed with her former ignorance.

She tracked the conversation that followed, knowing they had done all they could; Viserion had not died in vain. Euron Greyjoy had fled with his tail between his legs and the Lannister twins seemed to finally take the threat as seriously as it required. Daenerys found herself watching Jamie Lannister. She saw real fear in his eyes. Cersei was scared, she could tell, but there was no vulnerability in her fear. She chose her words carefully as though it was a play and she had the starring role.

This is why she did not breathe a sigh of relief along with Jon when Cersei accepted a temporary truce.

"In return, the King in the North will extend this truce. He will remain in the North where he belongs. He will not take up arms against the Lannisters. He will not choose sides."

"Just the King in the North? Not me?" Daenerys heard the bite in her words, yet was unsure if she was offended that she was omitted from this demand or fearful that it would mean she'd spent her last day in the presence of Jon Snow.

"I would never ask it of you. You would never agree to it and if you did, I would trust you even less than I do now. I ask it only of Ned Stark's son. I know Ned Stark's son will be true to his word."

Despite her anger, the seething, writhing rage building within her, Daenerys said no more and instead turned her attention to Jon. He stood across the courtyard from her and she could see the turmoil twisting and clawing inside him. If they had been in her own court on Dragonstone, she would have sent the others away and they could have talked through it together, as they had become accustomed to.

Jon met her eyes and held them. A thousand words screamed forth from those eyes and she felt her heart constrict. He turned away from her and nodded slightly.

"I am true to my word. Or I try to be. That is why I cannot give you what you ask. I cannot serve two Queens and I have already pledged myself to Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen."

It was the first time he had publically declared for Daenerys and until this moment, she had kept his oath to herself. She hadn't even told Tyrion of Jon's pledge on that quiet morning on the sea. She had not told Missandei of how he'd taken her hand. The warmth she'd felt there and the way that warmth had traveled from her hand, up her arm, over her chest and head, clouding her thoughts since then with a desire for him. A part of her was disappointed, not only to have lost the truce they'd worked so hard to establish, but to now have to share her secret with the world. A world that didn't deserve to know Jon Snow was pledged to her.

Soft, brief murmurs rose around her. Cersei's last bit of restraint seemed to leave her as she rose from her seat.

"Then there is nothing left to discuss. The dead will come North first. Enjoy dealing with them. We will deal with whatever's left of you."

She stormed away, leaving Daenerys thunderstruck and Jon looking more sullen than she'd ever seen him. She could have kicked him, yet she wondered how much more furious she'd have been if he'd so easily broken his vow. She was glad that whatever the cost, at least she knew he truly would always be at her side.

* * *

"I won't take it back. Please don't ask me to," Jon said to her as they walked through the sand toward the ship that brought Jon and the others.

"I know," Daenerys replied. "I'm not asking you to. I wish you'd lied, or even just given her the damn truce, but I understand why you didn't. I can't help but wonder how many times I've heard the words, 'Ned Stark's son,' as though it implies the highest level of honor possible."

She cast Jon a small smirk and he glanced at her, but the tension did not leave his body. He was morose. Perhaps even angry. It had already cro ssed her mind that he likely regretted pledging himself to her that morning. If he hadn't, perhaps things would have turned out differently on this day.

"What now, Jon?"

He sighed and stopped walking, looking behind them toward King's Landing. He brushed a hand over his face and she saw him running through their options in his mind.

"We use every man on Dragonstone and mine the rest of the dragonglass as quickly as possible. That should be our focus. It should only take another week at most if we redouble our efforts. After that… I suppose we sail North, join the Northern houses and face Winter."

"A week?" Daenerys sighed. "Very well. Varys can start preparing the ships so we have all the provisions we'll need for the journey."

Jon nodded and gave a stiff bow before turning to board the ship.

"Wait," she called after him, stilling him. She stepped forward, half of her feeling as hopeless as Jon looked and the other half more focused on comforting him. _Absurd_ , she thought. _Of all the things to be concerned with right now…_ Daenerys walked past Jon and boarded the ship. Tyrion was already there waiting for her and she glanced over her shoulder at Jon before speaking.

"I leave my army and fleet in your command. Sail back to Dragonstone. They should have finished making weapons from the dragonglass in our absence. Mine what remains and have Varys direct the preparation of the fleet."

"Your Grace—," Tyrion began.

"Jon and I will fly to Winterfell. It's time he returns to his people and time I introduce myself to the Northern Houses."

Tyrion stared dumbfounded, the silence echoing around them.

"I'm not sure that's wise, Your Grace. You've already pushed Drogon quite the distance today. You'd have to stop overnight at least once without protection."

"Without protection? I'll have two dragons and the King in the North. What more protection could I need?"

"Two dragons?" Jon called from behind her, but Tyrion cut him off.

"You recently learned how vulnerable your dragons are, Your Grace, and while the King in the North is no doubt a very capable protector, it is foolish to—."

"I'd advise you to choose your next words carefully, Lord Tyrion."

Daenerys stared down at her Hand, understanding his fears and his desire to protect her at all costs. She tried to remind herself that she had named him Hand of the Queen specifically to be her voice of reason when reason failed her. She tried to control her anger. She truly did try.

Tyrion hesitated and then bowed slightly. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I was not implying you are predisposed to foolishness. I do, however, believe you are becoming more lax in your safety precautions. This will be the second time you have taken yourself from the protection of your armies and flown into dangerous lands."

"We will land and camp only in deserted lands. We will not linger longer than necessary and I will not leave the presence of Drogon and Jon."

"Tyrion's right, Your Grace," Jon stepped up beside her, putting his hand on her arm. "There's no reason to fly ahead. We will be in Winterfell soon enough. I would be better served overseeing the excavation of the dragonglass."

Daenerys looked up into Jon's face. His features had softened and the weight of his hand on her arm fanned the embers in her stomach to life once more. She stared up at him for a moment and then raised her eyes to the sky.

Drogon and Rhaegal screeched in the distance, flying over the water toward the beach. Rhaegal swooped, hovering just over the ocean. Daenerys watched as he scooped a mouthful of water, presumably filled with his mid-day snack. They landed on the beach with a ground-shaking thud and Drogon stretched out his neck, leaning gently into Daenerys's body.

"My dragons have never let anyone touch them before. Even Tyrion, who has come the closest and is most trusted, has not been able to. Yet Drogon allowed your touch. Any man on Dragonstone may wield the tools necessary to mine dragonglass, but only one man has the opportunity to learn to fly on dragonback."

Jon's hand fell from Daenerys's arm. He stepped back, looking at Drogon skeptically. He began shaking his head and Drogon let out a roar that would have terrified any man.

"Not Drogon," she said. "Rhaegal."

They both looked at Rhaegal who was still at the end of the beach, his head dipped into the Ocean.

"What makes you think he'll allow that?"

Daenerys chuckled and took Jon by the hand, only the second time she'd felt his bare skin against hers, and led him to the edge of the beach. Drogon let out a huff of warm air and stretched out in the sand, watching lazily.

"Instinct? If I hadn't seen Drogon allow you to touch him, I wouldn't even consider this. But Rhaegal tends to be a bit more inclined to listen to his mother than Drogon anyway."

Rhaegal pulled his head out of the water and swung around. Water cascaded over his scales, pouring from his mouth onto the sand below. He let out an ear-piercing roar and pressed his nose into Daenerys's stomach, pushing her back several feet. Jon steadied her, one hand on her waist and the other clutching her hand. She laughed and placed her hand on Rhaegal's head.

" _Easy, my child_ ," Daenerys whispered in Valyrian. She closed her eyes and released Jon's hand, laying both palms on Rhaegal's head. He, perhaps more than Drogon, had mourned for his brother. Viserion's death still pained Daenerys every moment, whether awake or asleep, and Rhaegal seemed to connect with her deeply in these moments.

With her eyes still closed, Daenerys reached back for Jon's hand. She laced her fingers through his and held their hands together in front of Rhaegal's nose.

" _Friend_ ," she whispered and opened her eyes. Rhaegal was staring at the two of them while he breathed in her and Jon's combined scents. Slowly, she allowed her hand to fall away, leaving only Jon. She stepped back, watching Rhaegal as he watched Jon.

"Drogon," she called and he stretched his wing out for her immediately. She climbed onto him and stroked his side while she watched Jon and Rhaegal for a moment longer.

"Say ' _raqiros.'_ It means 'friend.'"

Jon stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Rhaegal. He repeated the word, eliciting chills from Daenerys, and tentatively placed his hand on Rhaegal's head. Rhaegal blinked and then lowered his head and stretched out his wing. Daenerys heard herself gasp. Somewhere, deep in her heart, she knew this very moment sealed the love she had for Jon.

She watched as he stepped onto Rhaegal's wing and climbed gingerly up, settling onto Rhaegal's back. Having only flown with Daenerys on his back one time before, Rhaegal seemed to shift back and forth, attempting to position Jon where he wanted him.

"Daenerys," Jon called to her. His voice was filled with wonder and apprehension. She laughed and leaned forward, grasping her usual handholds on Drogon. _"Fly."_

Drogon raised into the air without hesitation. Rhaegal issued a screech and rose with his brother, nearly losing Jon from the speed of his ascent.

Together, they flew out over the water. Rhaegal dipped and soared needlessly and while Jon looked like he'd fall off at any moment, the elation on his face was visible even from a distance. Daenerys used her body to direct Drogon and they slowly climbed higher and higher, allowing Jon to see the world from a new view. Eventually, she brought Drogon to a stop and they hovered in the air, Rhaegal beside them.

"There is no one else I'd ever trust with him. His life depends on you while you're his rider, just as your life depends on him. The power you would wield from his back… There is nothing comparable, Jon. Imagine it: flying beside me as we burn the Night King and his army to the ground. You don't have to be on the ground with a sword in your hand to win this war. I'm giving you the best weapon you could ever ask for."

"Why? Why trust me?"

"If I had trusted you in the beginning, perhaps I'd have three dragons instead of two. If I'd listened and put my faith in you, everything could be different now. So I am. I'm putting my entire world, and myself, in your hands."

Jon stared at her, his eyes darkening in a way that made her pulse quicken. Her mind flashed and she imagined him pressing himself into her as he looked at her with those eyes. Those dark, burdened eyes.

"I hope I deserve it," he replied.

"You do."

A smirk formed on her lips and she licked them before leaning down to speak into Drogon's ear. She directed them back to the beach and Jon managed to keep hold of Rhaegal despite the force of their impact. In the time it took Jon to climb down from Rhaegal, Daenerys was already on the ship with Missandei.

"I hope this is what you had in mind," Missandei said, holding up a fur lined cloak. The dark leather was patterned in what resembled dragon scales and was layered in a fitted cut. The dark fur, which Daenerys was secretly pleased matched Jon's cloak, covered the shoulders and gave way to an oversized hood. The accompanying gloves had the Targaryen seal and were soft and thick.

"Bear fur, Your Grace."

Daenerys nodded and pulled the cloak over her shoulders with Missandei's help. She fastened it at the neck and met Missandei's eyes.

"Do you think me foolish?"

"Not foolish, Your Grace. Willful, to be more precise."

She offered Daenerys a knowing smile which she readily returned.

"Be well, Missandei."

"Be well, Your Grace."

Daenerys turned to see Jon watching her as he slung a pack over his shoulders. Tyrion stood beside him holding a waterskin. He stepped forward and handed it to Daenerys before retreating onto the ship without another word. She strode forward, standing between Drogon and Rhaegal facing Jon.

"Shall we?"

Jon nodded and took the waterskin from her. He pulled a metal clip from the pocket of his cloak and used it to secure the waterskin to the chain draped across her chest. His gloved hand moved efficiently and more quickly than Daenerys would have expected, only lingering for a moment over her rib cage.

"Nice cloak," Jon said, throwing her an amused smile. "Looks familiar."

Daenerys felt her cheeks flush and she returned the smile.

"Can't go to the North without the appropriate attire."

"This is a really bad idea," he whispered, though she could tell he'd already resigned himself to it. "I can't talk you out of it?"

Daenerys shook her head slowly and stretched out her hand, brushing Rhaegal's side lovingly.

"You've met my family. I'd like to meet yours."

Jon grinned, a broad, excited smiled she'd never seen before, and nodded.

"I'd like that as well. I'll lead the way. I think I know these lands better than you. We'll have to go a few miles out of the way to camp in deserted lands."

With that, he turned and strode up Rhaegal's wing as though he'd been doing it his entire life and found his place on his back. Daenerys gave Rhaegal another pat and then mounted Drogon. Together with Jon in the lead, they lifted into the air and set off for Winterfell.

* * *

JON

Jon looked to the side and felt a surge of both jealousy and attraction at the sight of Daenerys so relaxed on Drogon's back. Jon's entire body ached from trying to keep his balance and stay upright on Rhaegal. Daenerys was hunched forward against Drogon's neck, her head resting against his scales. She was facing Jon's direction, but her eyes were closed. He groaned softly and pressed forward on Rhaegal, guiding him into their first descent of the trip.

"We'll camp on the Isle of Faces," Jon called to Daenerys, prompting her to open her eyes. She looked below them, surveying the land, and looked back up at him, seemingly confused. "It's considered sacred lands. Myth has it the Old Gods send mist and fog to hide the island from any they don't want to find it. Harrenhal isn't far from here though, so I know we're close. We'll just have to see if the gods deem us acceptable."

Daenerys ran her hand up Drogon's neck and leaned forward, speaking to him in Valyrian. He followed Rhaegal down into the mist cloaking the water and, presumably, the Isle of Faces. Jon refocused his attention on their descent and within moments felt the mist envelop him.

The mist, though heavy and impossible to see through, was oddly peaceful and welcoming. Jon reached his hand out tentatively, gripping Rhaegal even tighter with the other, and ran his hand through the air. He pulled his hand back and examined the droplets forming on his gloved palm. He had never seen a mist like this before. He assumed the heavier the mist, the closer they were to the water beneath it.

Urging Rhaegal down more slowly, he called back for Daenerys, knowing she couldn't see him.

"We should break through and see either water or land soon!"

"I see it!" Daenerys called, somewhere below Jon, causing him to realize she and Drogon had pulled ahead of him in the mist. "Just ahead!"

Jon and Rhaegal dropped into a steeper descent and suddenly he could see Daenerys's stark white hair just ahead of him. Not far below her, he saw the edge of the island. Pulling up beside Drogon, they soared over the small, tree-covered island. Jon saw a clearing in the distance and directed Rhaegal toward it.

"It would appear we've been accepted," Jon said to Daenerys as they landed beside one another in the clearing. Drogon and Rhaegal each lowered a wing, allowing Jon and Daenerys passage to the ground. They then formed a wide circle around Jon and Daenerys, their bodies acting as a wall between their riders and anything that might threaten them.

Jon kneaded his sore muscles, attempting to work the blood flow back into them. Not far from him, Daenerys smiled and turned away, stepping over Drogon's tail to examine the trees surrounding them.

"The trees have faces," she said to Jon.

"Aye, they do. They're weirwood trees. Been here since the Children of the Forest and the First Men signed the Pact that ended the war between them. The faces are said to be the witnesses of the Pact."

"It's a bit… Creepy," Daenerys whispered, looking over her shoulder at him.

Jon raised an eyebrow in agreement and pulled the pack from his shoulders. He rifled through the contents and then looked around them at the trees.

"I suppose it would be ill-advised to harvest wood from one of these trees for a fire. I'll see if I can find some fallen branches and kindling." He stepped past Daenerys, brushing her hand as he went. "Don't let them fly off until I'm back. I can already feel Rhaegal itching to hunt."

Daenerys frowned at him for a second and then nodded, turning away.

It took him nearly an hour's time to find enough dry, fallen wood and kindling to build a fire large enough to see them through the night. By the time he returned to the clearing, Daenerys already had a small fire burning, over which she was roasting several fish.

"Don't worry, I didn't go far," she said, glancing up at him. "I just gathered what I could near the edge of the trees. Rhaegal scooped our dinner from the lake."

Jon glanced at Rhaegal who was stretched out in a crescent shape, his snout near Drogon's tail, enclosing them in a protective circle. He opened one eye and gave Jon a huff before resuming his well-earned nap.

"Odd creatures," Jon said before depositing his collection of branches on the ground. He knelt down beside the pile, building a stack that would allow enough airflow to fan to the fire and keep it going through the night. When he was satisfied with his build, and when he felt his already exhausted legs could no longer sustain the position, he stood.

"Daenerys," he said, prompting her to look up from her fire. "Can they control their fire enough to light this or would it just incinerate it?"

With a small, airy laugh, Daenerys rose and moved to stand beside him.

"Can you control the power behind the swing of your sword? Can you control the volume of your voice or the shallowness of your breathing? It's the same for them." She turned, looking at Drogon whose head rested on the ground nearby. "Drogon, dracarys."

Drogon lifted his head lazily and opened his mouth. Jon watched in stunned fascination as an orange light grew from deep within Drogon's throat and rushed forward, igniting the bonfire before them.

Daenerys smirked and turned toward Jon, raising her eyebrow in amusement. Jon chuckled in response and shook his head.

"Alright. I've got a lot to learn, haven't I? I've not got a lot of experience with dragons just yet. Nor have I with fish, but I'll tend to them now if you'd like. It's been a long day."

"For both of us," Daenerys said.

"Aye, s'pose so."

They worked together, a peaceful silence filling the night, until they had enough fish to feed themselves and even a small pile of cooked fish for each dragon as a treat.

"I think tomorrow we can push a little bit further than we did today. The safest place for us to camp tomorrow night will be in the Neck. There's an old castle there, Moat Cailin. I believe it should be abandoned at this point. Lady Brienne said Petyr Baelish marched his army into Winterfell long ago and they were the last ones to hold up at the towers of Moat Cailin. It's Stark territory, anyway, so we should be safe and from there it will be an easy journey to Winterfell.

"Are you excited?" Daenerys plucked a piece of fish from its bones and placed it in her mouth, looking at Jon with a sort of mischievous light that reminded him achingly of Ygritte.

"For?"

"What do you mean, 'for'? To see Arya and Bran again! You know, the siblings you thought were dead…?"

Jon chuckled and nodded, glancing at Rhaegal.

"Honestly, I am. I have this vision in my head… Landing Rhaegal in Winterfell and seeing them both for the first time while riding a dragon."

He laughed harder and shook his head.

"It's madness, really. I know in my rational mind we'll have to arrive in Winterfell under the cover of darkness. I don't feel it would endear the Northern Lords to see you fly in on dragonback, however stunning the sight is. I fear it may cause a panic before I can suppress it. We're better served keeping your arrival a secret until I'm ready to reveal it. I won't have an opportunity to show off to my siblings, even if I want to."

Daenerys took a swallow from one of the waterskins and passed it to Jon. He took it from her and drank enough to abate the dryness in his mouth before passing it back to her.

"It's a stunning sight, is it? Me on dragonback?"

Jon looked up at her, feeling warmth rising within him.

"It is. You know it is. You yourself planned that entrance back at the Dragonpit. I believe you know the effect you have on those around you, whether riding a dragon or not."

"And what effect is it I have on you, Jon Snow?"

Jon hesitated, lowering the hand that was preparing another helping of fish. He stared at her, looking into her bright, vivid eyes.

"I believe you know exactly the effect you have on me, My Queen."

Daenerys flushed and looked away from him. Her eyebrows working gently as she struggled to keep her composure. Her eyes focused on the air above him and she leaned back on her palms.

"It's a shame we can't see the stars from here. The mist is too heavy for even the moonlight to break through."

Jon watched her, knowing she expected him to follow her lead and allow the change of topic. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, pulling her attention back to him.

"I'll never regret it," Jon said. "Pledging myself to you. We may not survive the Great War, but at least I can say I've done one thing right: followed my heart where it led."

"You look at me and speak as though you're pledging more than just fealty. Sometimes when you look at me, I feel as though you're… You're feeling some sort of affection for me."

"Some sort of affection?" Jon repeated with a chuckle. "How much has Lord Tyrion told you about my past? A lot, I presume?"

Daenerys nodded and Jon sat back, setting the rest of his meal aside.

"Then you must know how I came to be friends with the Free Folk. I broke my vow; went against the words of the Brothers of the Nights Watch. I fell in love with a girl and I used that love to rationalize my broken vow. I don't regret loving her, but I am ashamed of the way it happened. I carry that with me even now, long after she died."

He looked away from the fire and caught Daenerys's gaze. She was watching him intently with no visible emotion to give away her thoughts.

"Sometimes, when I look at you," he continued. "I feel some of the same feelings I felt with her. My pulse races, I feel the blood flowing inside me, and I feel as though my stomach might fall from my body. 'Affection' is not the right word, Daenerys. What I feel for you is much closer to what I felt for her, only without the shame and with an intensity and longing I could never have fathomed before."

Daenerys stared at him. Jon felt all those things now and was sure he saw some of them building in her eyes as well. Slowly, her lips parted and she smiled, a flush filling her cheeks.

"She must have been quite a strong personality to have influenced someone as noble as you; to have gotten you to step outside even the most flexible definition of honor."

"Aye," Jon said. "You'd have liked her. She didn't take any man's shit."

Daenerys laughed again and took a deep, steadying breath.

"And what do you see when I look at you, Jon?"

"Affection," he teased causing her to laugh loud enough to wake Drogon and Rhaegal.

"I don't believe that is the right word," she said, amusement lacing her words. "Perhaps we should come up with our own word."

Jon tossed the rest of his meal over his shoulder to Rhaegal and Daenerys did the same to Drogon. They sat across from one another, the flames dancing across the curves of their faces. Jon felt a certain lightness in his spirit that he could not remember having felt since he was a child. Perhaps the closest he had come was when he'd seen Sansa arrive at Castle Black those many months ago. Realizing he wasn't the only one left alive had made his heart soar.

Now he found himself, once again, feeling as though he wasn't alone.

"Devotion," Daenerys said, finally, bringing Jon's heart to an abrupt and irreparable stop.


	2. Chapter 2 - Faces in the Night

Faces in the Night

JON

The crackle of the brightly burning fire filled Jon's ears like a lullaby. He crouched near the edge of land, staring into the lake surround the Isle of Faces. The peace that had settled over him would be jarring if not so relaxing. He couldn't remember the last time he felt carefree and maybe even hopeful. He pulled his eyes from the water and glanced at the nearest weirwood tree. It seemed to stare back at him; its wide, knowing eyes maintaining his stare.

He had been raised in the same faith as his father and had heard many stories about the Old Gods and the weirwood trees. Many hours had been spent taking lessons under the weirwood in Winterfell's godswood. At the time, Jon had resented these moments, not because he didn't care for the history of his family's faith, but because he had never been allowed, even once, to join the Stark children's lessons. His presence upset Catelyn Stark too much.

Now, as his eyes roamed over the face carved into the stone-like wood, Jon could only feel grateful. While most of his lessons had come from Maester Luwin, there had been many early morning lessons with his father. Jon felt a stab of regret at the thought of Ned Stark. There were so many things he longed to say now; things he had been too young and naïve to even begin to understand when they last saw one another.

With a long exhale, Jon pulled his eyes from the weirwood and glanced down once more at his reflection in the water. It had been quite some time since he had seen his own face. Seeing himself now, half shadow, half illuminated by firelight, he saw traces of his father staring back at him.

"Winter has finally come, father." The words, hardly more than a whisper, spilled from Jon's lips unbidden. "You always said it would. It pains me to face it without you, but perhaps it's better that you have found your rest. I don't know what the future holds... It frightens me."

Jon glanced over his shoulder at Daenerys. Drogon and Rhaegal had flown off to hunt hours earlier, leaving their mother in Jon's care. She was now sleeping peacefully under the protection of his cloak. Her body was curled toward the fire, her features alight by the dancing flames. A small smile pulled at his lips and he turned back to his reflection once more.

"If I'm being honest, everything frightens me now. I know the past will always haunt me, but now I fear the present as much as the future. I spend every moment knowing the world could end. I fear for the girls and Bran, the Northerners, the Free Folk." He shook his head and glanced up, looking at the nothingness across the lake. "The battles to come, the losses I know we'll suffer… I'm terrified."

His words trailed off and he glanced up at the heavy mist above them. The blanket of peace pressed down on him and he felt detached from his fears and worries. They were still there, swirling inside him, and yet he felt indifferent to them.

"I don't think I'll survive the war to come, father. I think about it often. I shouldn't have lived this long. It must only be for this one thing that I'm still living. Everyone thinks me so fearless, so brave, but here I sit praying to the Gods for some promise that we'll survive. That… That I'll survive. I'd like to live, father, through this winter…"

Jon rose to his feet, picking up a red leaf from the ground. He held the stem between his fingers and twirled it gently, the leaf creating a crimson blur in his hand.

The crunch of leaves somewhere to the right pulled Jon's attention. The leaf dropped from his hand, floating delicately back to the floor of the isle. In hardly a second, Longclaw was unsheathed and held at the ready. A figure stepped out from behind the wierwood, his hand tracing along the face of the tree gingerly. Jon held the man's eyes, though he knew instantly he was not a man and he was not a threat. He was dressed in contrasting dark and light green fabrics and held a white staff in his free hand. The top was adorned in red wierwood leaves. His skin was green in color with patches of gray and a horned headdress sat atop his head.

Jon lowered his sword, though he did not return it to its sheath. The man inclined his head slightly and then continued his trek forward until he stood only a few paces from Jon.

"Why have you come here, child?"

"We mean you no harm. We're only passing through on our way to Winterfell." Jon gestured toward Daenerys who still slept several paces away. The man followed his gaze and nodded once before returning his gaze to Jon.

"You would not have been allowed to find this place if you intended harm, but I am grateful to hear you say it all the same. You seem troubled, child."

Jon laughed, though the sound was not as light as he intended. He ran a hand over his face and through his hair.

"Aye, my Lord. I suppose I am."

A breathless chuckle fell from the man's lips and he shook his head slowly.

"I am no lord, child."

"What are you?"

"I believe we are called The Green Men. We are the protectors of this place. We care for the wierwoods at the will of the Gods."

Jon recalled a particularly blistery morning at the Godswood with his father. He had been young, perhaps five or six. Catelyn had taken Robb and Sansa to visit their Aunt Lysa. Jon hadn't been permitted to accompany them, even though Robb had invited him. Together, they had hidden several items in their packs, which they planned to throw through what Robb called "the Moon Door." To his extreme sadness, when Catelyn had found them waiting to leave with Sansa, she had informed Jon he would never visit the Eyrie. Instead, he spend the entire day with his father; half in lessons at the Godswood and the other half riding and hunting. It was one of his favorite days.

"Father told me about The Green Men once. I wasn't sure I believed him, but I've come to believe all the stories I heard as a child."

The Green Man laughed that same breathless laugh and strolled past him to the edge of the isle. He stared out at the water and Jon stepped up beside him.

"We have become the subject of many children's tales over the years. Very few actually know of our existence and even fewer have set their eyes upon the Isle of Faces, let alone one of us. The last time I, myself, spoke with one of your kind was nearly 200 years ago. A dragonrider, like yourself."

Jon stilled, staring at the profile of the Green Man. He glanced back at Daenerys and then stepped closer to the Green Man.

"A dragonrider came here?"

"He did. He sought counsel during the War of Succession. I believe his dragon's name was Seasmoke. What do you call your dragon?"

"Rhaegal, but he's not my dragon."

The corner of the Green Man's lips pulled up into something resembling a smirk. He set his bright eyes upon Jon's face. He seemed to search for something within Jon's gaze; it felt as though he was reading him as the pages of a book. Jon shifted under the weight of the Man's stare, the heavy silence between them causing any remaining peace within Jon to dissipate.

"You look like your mother," he said suddenly, causing Jon's heart to beat into a frenzy. "Her eyes, her hair, her olive skin. But you have your father's nose and jaw. More importantly, you have his strength and heart. He loved fiercely, child. Just like you."

"It's funny, you know. I've always been told I had my father's eyes. You know my mother?"

"The Green Men know no one and everyone at once. The Gods have blessed us with sight through the trees. We've known you since you were a child playing at your family's Godswood."

The thundering in Jon's heart began to slow. He imagined himself being watched by the wierwoods as a child. He briefly wondered how many times they'd listened as he knelt at the edge of the great tree and wept for his mother, for the injustices he felt as a bastard in a noble family.

"I'm sorry you had to witness me in those days. I felt wronged and wallowed in it often."

"Perhaps, but it is to be expected of any child forced to grow up without his mother and father."

"Aye," Jon said. He'd spent his entire life longing for his mother; that pain was merely a dull ache now. But the mention of his father was still as painful as the day he'd found out he'd been beheaded.

Daenerys stirred behind them, pulling both men's attention to her. Her hand stretched out toward the fire, her fingertips dipping into the hot coals. Jon gasped and rushed to her side. He crouched and pulled her hand from the flames, cradling it to his chest. Her fingers were as soft and delicate as ever with no trace of injury. His eyes traveled the length of her arm to her face where he found her eyes upon his, a small smile upon her lips.

"Your fingers," he whispered. "I'd heard rumors fire couldn't burn you, but to see it…"

His eyes returned to her fingers and he stroked them gently, his rough and calloused hands folding over her own. Jon dipped his head and kissed the tips of her fingers before releasing her hand. The fire in his veins roared to life as Daenerys's lips parted, her eyes darkening with desire. Not far from them, Jon heard departing footsteps in the leaves, pulling his attention to the spot the Green Man had just stood. Daenerys was on her feet immediately and Jon put his hand on her arm, stilling her.

"It's okay. He's a friend. Native to the Isle. Have you heard of them? The Green Men. They tend the weirwoods. I was speaking with one before you threw your hand into the flames."

Daenerys shook her head and took another look at the edge of the trees. She seemed apprehensive, but allowed Jon to pull her back to the fireside. They laid down beside one another, Jon's hand still resting on Daenerys's arm. Slowly and almost timidly, Daenerys laid her hand over his.

"Sleep, my Queen," Jon said, pulling his cloak over them both. The mist was still heavy above them, blocking out the moon and stars, and Jon began to feel the peace he'd felt earlier return to him. Within moments, he followed Daenerys into a dreamless sleep.

DAENERYS

"You must have been freezing," Daenerys said to Jon, watching him clasp his cloak back in place. The fabric draped over his shoulders and he shifted the fur lined shoulders where he wanted them.

"I'm used to much colder nights. This is practically warm for me. You're not from the North; I could see the cold's effect on you."

Daenerys offered a grateful smile and tucked a loose strand back into the braid she had pulled over her shoulder. She had awoken before Jon, just as the sun had begun to streak through the mist above them. His cloak was draped over her body and he had still been sleeping soundly. Daenerys bit her lip as she recalled the way his arms wrapped around her waist as she rested on his chest. At the thought of the firmness of his body and the strength of his arms around her, the tingle between her legs began to pulse with the beat of her heart. Not since Drogo had she felt so safe and comfortable in another man's arms.

Jon opened one of the packs that hung across his body and pulled their breakfast from inside. He passed her a chunk of bread, two slices of dried meat, and a small sack filled with berries, nuts, and dandelion seeds. Daenerys popped a piece of meat into her mouth and then dropped the remaining items into the pouch at her waist. She unhooked her waterskin and drank several mouthfuls before passing it to Jon. He drank long and deep before handing it back to her with a nod toward the sky.

"You can call them now. I just… I'd like to have a moment to myself before they arrive."

Daenerys inclined her head and sent up a call for her children. She watched as Jon walked past her. He stopped at the weirwood tree near the edge of the lake. He was still for several moments and then dropped to one knee in front of the tree. He removed his glove and placed his hand on the white bark just below its face. She heard his voice, but could not pick out his words, as his tone was too low to hear clearly. She turned away, suddenly feeling as though she were intruding, and kicked a bit of sand on the already burnt out fire. In the distance, she heard Drogon and Rhaegal's wings cutting through the air as they approached.

Jon appeared at her side, his eyes cast upward. Silently, and without turning toward him, Daenerys took his hand, lacing their gloved fingers together. She felt Jon's eyes upon her, but their connection was broken when the dragons swooped down out of the mist and landed side by side in front of them.

"Good morning," she said, moving to Drogon's side. She put her hand on the side of his head and lowered her forehead to his body. Drogon gave a huff and pressed his head against her body. She felt his affection radiating through her body and smiled at him as she pulled back. "You've had a good night," she whispered, running her hand over his scales.

Beside them, Jon stood in front of Rhaegal, staring into his eyes. His hand rested on the side of Rhaegal's snout, apparently not bothering Rhaegal at all.

Jon turned to her suddenly, confusion and excitement filling his face.

"He wants to leave," Jon said. "He likes having me as a rider. Why do I know that?"

Daenerys froze for a moment, unsure whether to be impressed, jealous, annoyed, or downright turned on.

"I… I don't know why you know that. I know it as well. He's never had a rider before and he was always jealous that I chose Drogon over him. He likes feeling needed and important. Perhaps dragonriders can feel what their dragons feel. I always thought it was just because I'm their mother."

Jon shook his head and turned back to Rhaegal who snorted and swung his head, gesturing toward his wing. Jon patted him one more time and then walked around him, climbing up his wing and onto his back with much more ease than he had the previous day.

"It will take us most of the day's light to get to Moat Cailin. From there, it's maybe half a day to Winterfell. If there's still ravens at Moat Cailin, I'll send word ahead."

Daenerys nodded in acknowledgement and watched as Rhaegal swept into the sky, rising above the mist. She trailed immediately behind, Drogon following Rhaegal as Jon guided them toward Moat Cailin.

It wasn't long before they passed a massive castle. It appeared abandoned and relatively run down, with chunks of the towers missing or otherwise damaged. The lands surrounding it were lush and obviously fertile. Portions of the land were freshly burnt; clearly her children had feasted on the wildlife and crops that were growing wildly here.

"Harrenhal!" Jon called to her as they flew over it.

"Why didn't we camp here last night? We could have at least been indoors!"

"I don't know enough about Harrenhal; anyone could be there. I wanted to go where I knew we'd be safe. If we hadn't been allowed to find the Isle of Faces, we'd have had no choice but to land at there."

Daenerys took a second glance back at the castle as they flew North. The north side of the castle was heavily damaged by what Daenerys thought had probably been dragonfire.

"Aegon the Conqueror," Jon called to Daenerys as she pulled up beside him once more, "used Balerion to defeat King Harren during the War of Conquest. That's why it looks like that. They never rebuilt the damaged towers."

Daenerys imagined Aegon flying in this exact place decades before. Suddenly, the significance of her ancestry weighed heavily on her, reminding her why she'd been fighting so hard for so long. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she was allowing the threat to the North to distract her too much. Or perhaps it wasn't the threatto the North that was worrying her the most; perhaps it was the man at her side.

She looked to Jon. He held Rhaegal in a way that could not possibly be comfortable and reminded her again that this was only his second day on dragonback. She had seen him stretching his legs and back often throughout the night. So many hours on dragonback, gripping the sharp contours of the dragon's spine and anchoring oneself with primarily by leg strength took a toll.

The longer she looked at Jon, the more she worried he was the real distraction. She dropped her head, resting it on Drogon's shoulder as she watched Jon staring straight ahead. He was everything she had loved about Drogo: strong, fierce, kind and caring, and loyal. He commanded a room when he entered it, just as Drogo had. Unlike Drogo, he was also soft and, despite all his brooding, funny. Perhaps above all, the man's honor, however foolish, was incredibly attractive. So much of her life had been spent surrounded by men with no honor at all. Even Drogo, whom she admired more than anyone, had raped her for the first several weeks of their lives together. He also would have lied to Cersei easily and without pause. Sometimes she wished Jon had done so, but now she knew she would never doubt him; he would always be honest with her, no matter the cost.

The pull she felt toward Jon, both physically and emotionally, was undeniably strong. It unnerved her.

* * *

Moat Cailin had obviously been recently occupied. Daenerys walked beside Jon as they explored the center of the three towers, making their way up in search of the rookeries hidden in the depths of the castle. Jon's sword was drawn, a precaution Daenerys understood, and she held a lit torch in front of them, illuminating their path.

"The last I knew, the Knights of the Vale were camped here. Petyr Baelish brought them to our aid when we retook Winterfell. I don't know why they're not here now. Perhaps they've gone back to the Eyrie, though I can't imagine Baelish would be so quick to leave Sansa's side."

"There may not be any ravens left here."

"Then my sisters may be in for quite the surprise." Jon grinned, a sly, playful smile that gave him the boyish expression Daenerys rarely saw.

They finally reached the uppermost level of the tower and Jon pushed open the first door they found. Immediately, they were enveloped in a blistering cold. Daenerys looked over Jon's shoulder and saw a crumbling wall, the window much larger than it had originally been. The room itself was filled with ravens of varying sizes. Some swooped and flew from the tower upon their entrance; others remained in their nests. Each wall of the room had nooks carved into the wall, nests built into each one.

"King's Landing… Harrenhal… Castle Black… Ah, Winterfell."

Jon stepped up to a group of nests along the eastern wall. These were the ravens that had been trained to fly between Moat Cailin and Winterfell. Three ravens chirped as Jon stepped up to them. Daenerys watched as he held out his hand, a small pile of seeds laying in his palm. A bird hopped down from its nest and landed on his wrist where it began pecking at the seeds. Jon gave him a moment and then pulled a small roll of parchment from his pocket.

"Well, you're very prepared," Daenerys teased. Jon glanced over his shoulder with a smirk on his face.

"I wrote it while you were sleeping last night."

"And what does it say, may I ask?"

"Of course, you can ask, Daenerys. We have no secrets."

He handed her the scroll, which she unrolled and held under the light of her torch. Jon stroked the back of the raven in his hand while it continued snacking.

" _My dear Sisters – Sansa, Arya – and my Brother, Bran –_

 _I write to you this night camped on the Isle of Faces. I am on my way home and I am bringing Queen Daenerys with me. She has agreed to join the North in the fight against the Night King. We will arrive in Winterfell in two days' time. I look forward to seeing you all._

 _Sansa – The Northern houses must be informed that I have bent the knee to Queen Daenerys and that she comes to join the fight for the North, not against it. I leave this in your capable hands, sister. Please have two horses waiting for us on the King's Road north of the river mid-afternoon the day following your receipt of this raven. Thank you, Sansa. I'm anxious to see you are safe and well once more._

 _Bran – I wish I had been there when you arrived, little brother. I'm happy to know you are there to look after the girls in my absence._

 _Arya – I know, I know. You don't need looking after. I'll see you soon, my Arya. We'll go for a ride on my dragon._

 _Yours in faith and love, Jon"_

"Your dragon?" Daenerys turned toward Jon, a playful grin filling her expression. Jon hesitated for a moment and then shrugged.

"It's a dragon, Daenerys. I may have gotten a little carried away."

Daenerys laughed and placed her hand on Jon's arm as she handed the scroll back to him.

"He's more yours than any other man's. I'll forgive you this time."

Jon gave her a bashful smile and then turned away, securing the scroll to his raven. He walked to the window and held out his hand.

"To Winterfell, little one."

"Why the horses?" Daenerys asked, watching the bird take flight.

"I don't feel it would endear the Northern houses to you if their first impression is you swooping in on Drogon. Despite anything Sansa may say, they'll think you've come to conquer the north and that fear will stay with them far too long. I'd rather they meet you as I did. Don't worry, though, you're still quite scary even without your dragons."

Jon turned, looking down at Daenerys, with that playful smirk she had seen so many times during this trip. She stared up at him, taken for a moment by how close they stood together. Her mind instantly replayed the morning when she woke up in his arms.

"You're blushing, my Queen," Jon whispered, raising a gloved hand to her cheek. She stared at him for a moment longer and then shook her head.

"Queens don't blush, Jon Snow. Didn't you know?"

She raised an eyebrow at him and then turned, leaving the room. She heard him following behind her and she slowed her pace so he could walk with her in the light of the torch. They walked together, exploring the tower in silence until they came to a large room with a fireplace, a bed, a chair and desk. Jon ignited the remaining logs in the fireplace quickly and then lit the lamp sitting on the desk.

"This will do. You can have the bed. I'll find some extra furs from one of the other rooms for myself. It's best if we stay together until we're safe in Winterfell. I'm going to go get some more wood from the stores we passed when we came in. I also want to refill our waterskins and see if Rhaegal can find us some fish for supper. Rest, my Queen."

"Jon!" Daenerys called as Jon left the room. He reappeared in the doorframe and Daenerys handed him her waterskin, making him sigh at his own oversight. She grinned at him and Jon stopped, mid-turn. His eyes moved from her eyes to her lips and then back again.

"What?" she asked apprehensively.

"You don't smile often. I like to see it."

"Well aren't we a matching set, then. You don't smile often either, Jon Snow. But when you do…"

They stared at one another, the air around them growing heavy with something unspoken demanding to be acknowledged. Just as Daenerys was about to press her body against his, Jon cleared his throat and stepped back, putting much needed distance between them.

"I'll be back soon."

Daenerys nodded and watched him go until he was out of sight and she could no longer hear his footsteps echoing through the halls. When she finally closed the door to the room they would call their own that night, her legs were weak and a fire burned deep in her core.

* * *

 _Pain. Blinding, tearing pain. She opened her mouth in a rush of fear, confusion, and desperation. Dragonfire poured forth and then sputtered into smoke. Her body was being torn in half, a searing fire engulfed her chest and wing. Darkness pulled at her. She was falling; drilling down toward the ground in an unbreakable spiral. She tried to fly, tried to pull out of it, but her wing failed to respond and her body was aflame. The pain choked her. She screamed. The agonized sound filled the air and then she hit the ice fast and hard. Water enveloped her, pulling her down. Bodies followed her into the water, but they weren't afraid. They clawed at her body, pulling and tearing at her skin; biting and ripping. Her skin peeled back where the broken ice stabbed and sliced through her. She roared in pain, sucking in several mouthfuls of water. She was drowning. Her body was being torn apart. She was dying and she was terrified._

Daenerys lurched forward, her back arching off the bed. She screamed into the night, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her body felt heavy and weighed down as though she were under water, darkness all around her. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, lifting her into a sitting position. Lips whispered calming words into her ears, promising her she was okay. Daenerys clung to Jon's arms, holding onto him to keep from drowning. Sobs rose in her chest and she could not control them; her body trembled, the pressure from her cries threatening to rip her apart.

"You're safe. I've got you. Feel my body; focus on the rise and fall of my chest. Breathe with me, Daenerys."

Jon's voice and the warmth of his breath on her ear and neck was Daenerys's only life line. She focused all her attention on him, ignoring the lingering fear and pain from her nightmare. She felt his chest moving against her back and closed her eyes, trying to slow her breathing to match his. Her grip on Jon slowly began to relax, her nails withdrawing from the deep impressions they made on his arms.

Daenerys wasn't sure how much time had passed when she finally opened her eyes again. Her breathing had slowed and the pain in her chest had receded. For the first time, her rational mind prevailed and she realized the darkness around her was not the icy water from her dreams, but simply the dark of night.

Around her, the fire Jon had made hours earlier was still lit, but burning much lower than it had been. She heard Drogon's screech in the distance and knew they had felt her nightmare and residual pain.

"I dreamed I was Viserion," she whispered. "I was flying, soaring over the frozen ground, and then the Night King's spear hit me and I was falling. The pain and fear was so real, Jon. It's not the first time I've had this dream. I think somehow I'm able to feel what he felt in his last moments." She stifled a sob, putting a hand to her mouth. "He was so scared when he died. Scared, alone, and in so much pain."

A small sob did force its way from Daenerys's throat and she covered her mouth with her hand, holding back any that would follow. Jon's head, which was resting against her own, dipped slightly. His hands continued to stroke the skin of her upper arms.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Daenerys nodded a bit, unable to tell him it was okay, because of course it wasn't. Nothing would ever make it okay, but she didn't blame him for what happened; she hadn't even for a moment. She knew he could have died that night, and very nearly did when he told her to leave in order to protect her and Drogon.

She turned her body slightly, still enveloped in his arms, and realized he had pulled her into his lap. His cloak, armor, and leathers had been discarded, leaving only his underclothes. Despite her frayed emotions, Daenerys felt a surge of heat but did not look away. Instead, her eyes dipped slightly, taking in what she could see of his chest – the smattering of dark hair on his pale skin and the edge of one of his many scars.

She glanced up at him and found him looking at her with concern and guilt clouding his eyes. She offered a weak smile, the best she could muster in her post-nightmare haze, and shook her head gently.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "I'm alright."

Jon nodded and loosened his grip on her, allowing his arms to relax slightly. Rather than moving away, Daenerys rested her head on his shoulder, her hand moving to his chest. They sat together in silence, clinging to one another while the adrenaline coursing through them both subsided.

"Do you ever have nightmares, Jon?"

"I do," he replied, watching her.

"What haunts you?"

"Many things. Things I've done. People I've lost…"

He paused and Daenerys relaxed her body into his, her eyes falling on the makeshift bed he had created on the floor in front of the door.

"I often dream of my father's death even though I wasn't there to witness it," he continued. "I know he was beheaded, but sometimes I see him stabbed to death. Other times, burned alive. Sometimes flayed with my sisters watching."

Daenerys felt a surge of illness at the thought of Jon's sisters having to watch their father skinned alive. For a brief moment, her mind flashed on Viserys's death. She wanted to feel remorse for what she allowed to happen to her brother; it hadn't been a merciful death, after all, but she found it hard to pity him after the years of abuse she'd endured at his hand.

"He was a good man, wasn't he, your father?"

"The best I've ever known. Far better than me, that much I know."

"He'd be proud of you, I bet. To see who you are now."

"I hope so," Jon said, smiling wistfully.

Daenerys allowed her eyes to wander over his face and down his neck to his chest. She had seen the scars on his chest and stomach on the boat the morning he'd pledged himself to her. Now, she moved her hand up slowly, her eyes darting to his apprehensively. He stared down at her, his dark eyes holding hers, and she guided her fingertips inside his undershirt.

"Do you remember the day we met? Davos began to say something about my having been stabbed in the heart?"

Daenerys nodded and pushed his shirt open enough to find the scar over his heart. She traced it tentatively and met Jon's eyes once more, urging him on.

"My relationship with the Free Folk didn't sit well with the Night's Watch; not all of them, of course, but many of them felt I was betraying the Brothers. They plotted against me; declared me a traitor and unfit to be Lord Commander. They each drove a dagger into me and left me to die in the snow. I was found and… brought back. My final act as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was to execute the men who betrayed me. One of them was just a boy and I hung him. I often see his face in my dreams."

"Then Davos meant it literally? You really were stabbed in the heart because you followed your conscience?"

Jon nodded, but said no more, looking into the low burning fire.

"How did you survive that?"

"I didn't," Jon said, simply.

Daenerys's hand stilled, resting on the scar over his heart. She raised her head from his shoulder and turned a little more so she was looking at him fully.

"What do you mean, you didn't?"

"I died in the snow. I was brought back by a priestess of the Lord of Light."

"Melisandre?"

Jon nodded, raising a curious eyebrow.

"She came to me. She's the one who urged us to summon you."

"Of course she did," he said bitterly. "I suppose she failed to mention she burned a little girl at the stake and I banished her from the North?"

Daenerys froze, frowning deeply. "She omitted that bit of information. It wouldn't have served her well. Do the scars still hurt?"

Jon shook his head and Daenerys turned her attention back to the scar on his chest. She glanced up at him and moved her fingers lower on his shirt, drawing the laces apart and opening it with ease. Jon's chest continued to rise and fall, though Daenerys thought she saw a hitch in his breathing. Sliding out of his lap and onto the bed, Daenerys examined the scars on his abdomen and felt her stomach turn. She imagined him falling into the snow, blood pooling under and around him while the men he considered brothers walked away.

"You've lived a life in service of others. It's a noble life, Jon Snow, but a lonely one too, I'd wager."

"At times," Jon agreed, moving his hand to the center of her lower back. This time, it was Daenerys's breath which was stolen.

Jon pulled Daenerys back into his lap. Her hands moved up automatically, pushing his shirt from his shoulders.

"You unnerve me," he whispered, his lips brushing her shoulder lightly. Robbed of coherent thought and filled with an all-encompassing desire, Daenerys closed her eyes and pulled him firmly against her. Despite the warmth from the fire, a chill spread through her body. Her hardened nipples pressed into Jon's bare chest through the thin material of her dressing gown. Bringing one arm around Jon's neck, Daenerys leaned her head to the side, allowing room for Jon's lips to travel freely.

His hand moved to the side of her neck, cradling and supporting her while he kissed his way down the other side of her neck. A soft whimper escaped Daenerys's lips and a groan quickly followed from Jon's. He lingered over the sensitive curve at the base of her neck, sucking gently.

"Don't stop," she pleaded. "Never stop kissing me."

Daenerys's pleas were silenced by Jon's mouth on hers; a desperate, raw kiss she was sure would bruise her lips. She returned his kiss with the same intensity, tangling her hands in Jon's hair as she held him against her. Biting down on Jon's bottom lip, Daenerys earned a low growl from deep within him.

Using the hand on the small of her back, Jon pulled Daenerys's hips forward and laid her back on the bed, his lips never leaving hers. Daenerys gasped loudly and pulled back, looking up at Jon as she felt him pressing against her core. He met her gaze and stilled, breathing deep, ragged breaths. With one arm still wrapped around him, Daenerys reached down, pulling her gown free enough to wrap her leg around his waist.

Fire danced in Jon's eyes. He kissed her again, rocking forward slowly. Need overwhelmed Daenerys, and she heard her own moans filling the air as she clung to him. Jon's lips left hers and moved down her neck to her chest, his hand pulling the edge of her gown aside. He took her nipple into his mouth and Daenerys cried out, her eyes flying open as she felt the effect of his mouth all the way in her toes. Rolling her head to the side, Daenerys's eyes fell on Drogon's face peering at her through the small window. He blinked at her and Daenerys could feel his concern being replaced with curiosity.

A manic giggle escaped Daenerys's lips and she squeezed Jon's side. He looked up at her, his eyes dark and heavy hooded from desire. She nodded toward Drogon and let out another uncontrolled giggle.

Jon groaned and stilled immediately. She watched his face fall and then begin to light once more as laughter took him. He rolled to the side, lying next to Daenerys.

"Rhaegal, too," he whispered, drawing himself up on his elbow. Now that the sounds of their passion had died away, the flapping of their wings could be heard clearly.

"They came because of the nightmare, but now they're just curious," Daenerys managed to say between hysterical laughs. She laid back down and rolled into Jon, burying her face in his chest to silence herself. His own chest shook from the force of his suppressed laughter. Jon's arm wrapped around her body and held her against him, pressing the occasional snicker into her hair.

When their laughter finally died away, Jon sighed and kissed the side of Daenerys's head.

"We have a long journey tomorrow. You haven't slept much."

"No," she breathed and looked up at him, her arm crossing his body. "But I think maybe I'll be able to now."

She lifted her chin slightly and Jon took her cue, pressing his lips against hers. When she laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes, the thundering of his heart lulled her to sleep.


End file.
